Unspoken Answers
by Stargazing BasketCase
Summary: Jack’s gone now. But Gwen never gives up hope that somehow, someday, he’ll come back. And she never asks herself why she hopes that. JackGwen.


Title: **Unspoken Answers**

Rating: T

Summary: Jack's gone now. But Gwen never gives up hope that somehow, someday, he'll come back. And she never asks herself why she hopes that. Jack/Gwen.

Disclaimer: Torchwood, and the wonderful Doctor Who, are property of the BBC. Damnit.

Inspired 'cause one of my friends found out they were doing another series of Torchwood, and therefore the lovable Jacky-boy must return! So my take on what happens between his TARDIS-removal and the new series.

R&R is muchly appreciated, and enjoy!

**Unspoken Answers**

She missed him.

It was funny that. She'd taken him pretty much for granted the whole time they worked at Torchwood together. He was always there, always supportive, always ready to bury Owen under a mountain of unfair paperwork when, in her early days, he'd been teasing or rude or just downright _cruel_.

And now…?

Three months ago, after a strange _whoosh_ing noise had floated through the Hub and Jack Harkness had just… _vanished_ she'd realised exactly what she'd lost.

His disappearance had devastated the team. No other word for it. Ianto had curled into himself as much as he had when Lisa had died, quiet and reclusive, making the tea, clearing up, but broken. Toshiko had been pale and red-eyed for days and days and days afterwards – crying her heart out. Even Owen, who'd bloody well tried to _kill _Jack only days before his departure, was shaken to the core. They stopped working as a cohesive, functioning unit. Friendships broke down; the Hub became a tense, silent workplace.

And Gwen knew that, without her, Torchwood Three would have most likely fallen into disrepute. And she was _not _one to boast.

She was the _only _one who managed to keep smiling. She was the _only _one who managed to keep her enthusiasm for the job going, throughout the mourning, when invisible black drapes graced the tall walls of the Hub. The _only _one who did her grieving in private. And, slowly, the links and connections were reforged – stronger than ever before.

Owen had refused to take command. Point blank. Gwen suspected he felt guilty, _monumentally _guilty, but she didn't think about it much. Owen had refused, so _she'd_ been given the task of running Torchwood Three. The job was tiring – she'd never appreciated how much Jack had handled on a day-to-day basis before. And now it was up to her. But not without a cost.

Late nights and early mornings had taken a massive toll on her home life. Rhys, after realising that her job had _killed _him had backed out. She'd been literally left without a home. _That_ was a memory she desperately wanted to forget – standing in the street, suitcase in hand, tears running down her cheeks. She'd moved into the Hub. No one had asked why; they knew already.

Subconsciously, she knew that it was all Jack's fault. That if he hadn't gone everything would most likely be fine and dandy. But she didn't blame him. She never did, even in moments of drunken stupor when the world swam around her and she cried in her workmates arms.

Why?

Because she missed him.

But the reasons _why _she missed him were never brought up.

---------

Gwen folded her arms and tapped one foot. "Owen…"

He waved an absent hand at her. "Nearly done."

"Your deadline was two days ago."

"It's a _report._" He laced that last word with such venom that she smiled. "The world is not gonna end if Owen Harper doesn't hand in a bloody _report_."

She bit her lip. "So. Have you got it?"

He fished under the other files on his messy desk. "Yeah, it's here somewhere…" He lifted up a scratty folder. "Here you go."

She plucked it from his grasp and smiled sweetly. "_Thank _you."

---------

Three months on, Torchwood was back to normal.

The friendly banter, the theft of caffeine, the slacking off, the ordering of pizza under the name of "Torchwood", which Owen still got flak for… It was all there.

They'd moved on.

Well. Ish.

There was still the occasional moment when Ianto turned to Gwen with a mug of industrial strength coffee and the name "Jack" dying on his lips. When Toshiko glanced around at meetings with a frown on her forehead and the unspoken question "Where's Jack?" hung in the air. When Owen started with surprise when he realised he actually got to _drive _the SUV, and Gwen could tell he was thinking "What about Jack?"

But for the most part, aside from the occasion slip-ups and trip-ups, they'd moved on.

Note the emphasis. _They'd _moved on. Gwen found it a little harder.

Why?

Her reasons were never touched on.

---------

Ianto slapped the pizza boxes down on the table. Owen, a look of lusty hunger in his eyes, snatched the top one and immediately began to wolf down the cheap, vaguely-rubbery sustenance inside. Gwen and Toshiko exchanged an exasperated glance and began to eat too, albeit at a more sedate pace.

"Joining us, Ianto?" Owen mumbled around a mouthful of mozzarella and pepperoni.

"Not exactly five star," Toshiko warned, "but it's okay."

"I don't mind." He smiled. "Any going spare?"

She patted the empty seat beside her. "Sit down. I bet you haven't eaten yet today."

He complied and snagged a slice from the box in from of Owen, who didn't even notice. "You might be right there, Tosh."

Gwen eyed him, smirking slightly. "And there'd be a reason for that…?"

Ianto flushed. "No," he replied, slightly too quickly. "No reason."

Their attention was caught. A slow smile spread across Toshiko's lips. "A _girl, _Ianto?"

He hid behind his pizza slice. "Maybe."

Owen swallowed his mouthful, smirked, and wolf-whistled. Loudly.

---------

They'd never taken on any new members.

Whatever they all said, to themselves and out loud, that would be like replacing Jack. And how could you replace Jack Harkness? You couldn't. Simple as that. It would be impossible.

So there was an empty space on the team. An empty seat in the SUV. An empty desk in the Hub. An empty seat at the table. A barstool left free when they went to the pub. They all missed him. How could they not?

But no one new was signed up. No one to fill the gap.

Subconsciously, they all knew that they were waiting in the vain hope that Jack would come back. Foolish? Definitely.

But that didn't change it.

They still ordered enough pizza for five.

Three of them with hope waning: _he's been gone months – he's not coming back. _

One who refused to let him go. _He's not gone. He'll come back. _

Gwen insisted they order pizza for five.

No one ever asked her why.

---------

Gwen looked up sharply, frowning. "Can you hear that?"

Toshiko glanced absently over. "Hear what?"

"That. That _whoosh_ing noise."

Owen chuckled. "Gwen, dear," he began, condescendingly. "Alcohol on duty is _not _a _good thing._"

"No – I'm serious." She was stood up now, frowning. Listening. "Can't you hear it?"

A ghostly wind rippled through the Hub. Paper gusted off Owen's desk and into Ianto's face. Three mouths hung open: three pairs of eyes searched wildly, almost fearfully.

Not Gwen. She smiled, very slightly.

She'd heard that noise before.

_The sound of the Universe. _

_Jack. _

---------

The sweat-soaked dreams had never stopped.

Night after night Gwen would wake up gasping, cotton sheets plastered to her skin. Memories were hazy at best – vague images of hands on flesh, lips on skin, cries mingling in the still of the night.

At first, she'd convinced herself that it was Rhys she was dreaming of. She'd forced herself to believe that she just missed her boyfriend, that they'd go, eventually. But she'd always know that she was deluding herself.

She missed _someone. _

But it wasn't Rhys.

_His _voice echoed in her ears when she woke, Jack's dream-voice gasping her name in ecstasy.

But she never wondered why she dreamt those dreams.

---------

_Police Public Call Box_, the writing across the top of the blue box read. _Police Telephone. Free for use of public. _Or something to that effect.

Gwen watched the doors, a smile flickering across her lips.

And when those same doors were flung open with a familiar flair for the dramatic and a familiar face stepped out, that smile widened into a full-blown grin.

The door shut after a brief, terse conversation – a man in pinstripe and a young black girl; her face confused, his accepting.

The box _whoosh_ed out of existence. The Hub was silent.

Jack Harkness turned to face his team. A grin tweaked his lips. "Long time no see," he greeted with his usual flippancy – as if nothing had ever happened, in fact.

The phrase "group hug" was rendered obsolete by the joyful and astounded welcome the four who had been left behind, all those months ago, gave him.

---------

"Why didn't you stay?" Gwen asked, perched on the edge of Jack's desk. "He was your 'right kind of doctor'. You said so. Why did you come back?"

He glanced up at her, an amused smile teasing his lips.

"Not that I'm _complaining_," Gwen hurriedly backtracked. He smirked at her bluster. "Just… wondering," she finished, rather lamely. She chewed her lip, embarrassed.

Jack smiled and leaned back, considering. "I travelled with him, a long time ago," he mused. "He was… different. Much different. Incredibly different." A trace of bittersweet melancholy slid into his tone. "And Rose was there. Loved her like a sister." He sighed. She almost thought she saw tears in his eyes. "She's gone now. And he's changed."

Gwen lightly touched the back of his hand in sympathy. He smiled, a little. His hand turned over; his fingers grasped hers.

"I couldn't quite cope with the difference," he continued. "Not for any decent length of time at least. So I asked him to bring me back here. He understood." Jack sighed softly. "Or at least I think he did. With him, it's hard to tell."

She squeezed his fingers gently. "I'm glad you're back," she said sincerely. "We missed you."

He smiled a crooked grin. "Couldn't get along without me?" he asked, that knowing sparkle in his eye – the sparkle that promised the universe. "Everything fell apart with me gone for three months?"

Her gaze met his. Fingers released fingers. She leaned forward and gently, so gently, pressed a kiss to his lips. She felt his surprise in the sudden tense of his shoulders, and his acceptance in the return of soft pressure.

She never asked herself why she did it. But, then again, she'd never really questioned anything when it came to Jack. There were some answers that she already knew. Answers that didn't need to spoken, or thought, to be known.

Reasons that needed no reasons.

_Love. _It wasn't said, might never be said, but it was there. And maybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she saw it in his eyes, too.

Gwen smiled and drew back from him, still perched on the edge of his desk. "Something like that."

--end--


End file.
